


Rebirth

by nagemeikenu



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2020-12-14 23:18:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21023876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagemeikenu/pseuds/nagemeikenu
Summary: After the battle in the Department of Mysteries, life simply has to move on. Remus struggles with resolving his own emotions and thoughts about death, life, Harry, and how to begin again in the middle of a war.“Death is with you all the time; you get deeper in it as you move towards it, but it's not unfamiliar to you. It's always been there, so what becomes unfamiliar to you when you pass away from the moment is really life.”-bell hooks





	Rebirth

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, all! This fic was based on this prompt: “Death is with you all the time; you get deeper in it as you move towards it, but it's not unfamiliar to you. It's always been there, so what becomes unfamiliar to you when you pass away from the moment is really life.”  
-bell hooks  
I am member of Team EMBARKMENT, which was so fun! And, of course, couldn't have written this without an AMAZING beta, who is [jennandblitz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandblitz/pseuds/jennandblitz) here on this site and [jennandblitz](tumblr.com/jennandblitz). Thank you SO MUCH for your insights, love! Hope you lovely readers enjoy!

In the graveyard stood a man with graying hair and a well-lined face. His cheekbones were prominent, not due to bone structure but due to a faintly gaunt face. He almost looked like he was just recovered from starvation. It had been quite a long time he’d stood, just in front of a humble grave with a simple headstone. Certainly he’d been there long enough to think that this peaceful, simple place would not have suited her in life. In death, however, the simple use of her surname and dates beneath that seemed bold and confrontational. It seemed a dare for anyone who saw it to deny the essence of her existence. He almost smiled at that notion and was tempted further when he looked at her name.

**Tonks **

**1973—1996 **

Why had he survived? What was the point? She had been literally vibrant, her pink hair and fierce passion for everything. Even now he could picture her dark brown eyes, lit with a joke, her slim figure tripping over the bloody umbrella stand, her wand held out in front of her with eyes like molten wood—she was falling, falling through the curtain and then gone. Here he was, with one of the few people important to him only now declared innocent, only now free to live his life anew. Sirius had been cleared, no one was hunting him; now it was even possible to be of help to the Order of the Phoenix. After fifteen achingly long years, he could finally be a proper godfather for Harry.

Looking down at Tonks’ grave, he couldn’t help but think his freedom had been priced with her death. This wasn’t the beginning he’d wanted for Sirius—the guilt that must be plaguing his mind was unimaginable. He could feel the weight of her death on his shoulders along with James’ and Lily’s. Bitterly, he stuffed his hands in his pockets. It seemed the only thing he could do with unquestionable success was watch people get killed. Just like Lily and James… so young. He reminded himself she’d been a bit older, but God, not by much. Not enough to make him feel any better… not enough to reassure him that he could handle another war, another round of sheer terror and grief. He was back to thinking that if there was a God out there, he was being furiously punished by continuously surviving. There was a special kind of vengeance in surviving things he shouldn’t. Funny that surviving something would make him ache for Death to take his hand and lead him away. Funny that dying would be considered an insult to her memory.

What an easy way to trap him here, what an easy way to ensure he continued to watch the world around him fall apart.

When he felt a tentative hand touch his shoulder, he jumped. He should have thought it probable, but somehow he’d blocked the idea of any support from his expectations.

“Professor…”

“I’m not your professor anymore, Harry. I’m just a member of the Order.” Remus simply stared at the stone, unable to look at the boy who’d started thinking like a man far too soon.

“Should I call you Mr. Lupin?” The question made Remus blink. No one had ever called him that.

“I think…” he began slowly, “I think if your parents had lived…you’d have called me Remus or Moony. Whatever you like.”

“Then…Remus,” the near-twin of James paused, “I think we’re alike, a bit.”

“Oh?”

“We think everything is on us, even when it isn’t.” A moment of quiet passed.

“Perhaps we do.”

“Remus, Harry,” a voice called out. Remus felt each muscle go taut and forced himself to turn towards Molly with the facsimile of a smile.

“It’s time we went back to Headquarters for dinner,” she said in her brisk voice. Remus almost didn’t catch the glint of tears in Molly’s eyes because her smile was so terribly bright. Wordlessly, he moved from the grave and walked with those who remained. Each redhead seemed to blend into another, Harry’s stark black hair popping out like a toad on a dinner table. Even Hermione’s brown frizz almost blended in, but the sheer volume made itself unique. Then there was Headquarters—the bleak place Sirius despised but lived in out of spite.

Remus wished he didn’t admire the bastard for it.

The kitchen was boisterous as usual, but Remus didn’t have the energy to participate. Sirius was quiet as well, eating more than Remus—barely—and finishing off the single glass of fire whiskey with the last of a pudding Tonks had adored. It sat in Remus’ stomach like a stone, though it had gone down smoothly. Next was quiet conversation in the sitting rooms, people talking quietly about anything that wasn’t Nymphadora Tonks and the upcoming war. Remus caught himself staring at Sirius several times, but he knew Sirius wasn’t paying attention to that. He was absorbed by the lit fire, and occasionally talking to Harry in low tones. It felt so wrong to face sleep alone, but it was obvious that he wasn’t needed by anyone anymore, and that those who knew Tonks better needed to be left alone or needed energy Remus simply didn’t have.

That was how Remus ended up staring at the ceiling for the better part of the night. That was the first night after the funeral, and soon the students had gone back to Hogwarts to finish their studies. That was a waiting game—and as the summer holiday approached, Remus hoped to God that the silence in the empty house would end by having the students around again. It would certainly be better for everyone to have youth there—even if it reminded him of a young, impulsive klutz who never needed to die.

He was feeling rather hopeful about the summer until a letter from Dumbledore came, stating that Harry would be sent to his aunt and uncle’s home as he had done for the past fifteen years.

The next few days were hellish for everyone. There were only two bits of really good news. The truth was out—finally. Remus believed that was a double-edged sword, as now the entire wizarding world was thrown into fear and paranoia. The Daily Prophet was better, anyway. The next bit was wonderful, and yet had changed almost nothing. Sirius had been pardoned. Finally, Sirius was a free man. Even so, Harry had gone back to the Dursleys’ for the summer holiday, which had been the only time Remus had really questioned Dumbledore. Surely, there was no need? In the end, everyone had, for the most part, backed down. Harry was very bitter about it.

Letters came in every other day from his would-be-honorary godson, and Remus did his best—along with, he was dead certain, Molly, Arthur, and Sirius—to keep his spirits up. Sirius wrote to Dumbledore daily concerning it. Privately, Remus knew it would do nothing. Once Dumbledore’s mind was made up, no one could change it. Even so, Remus reminded himself, it was worth the weekly letter from him as well. It had only been three now, but Remus was exceptionally determined in this case. He was so determined he thought he’d overstepped in the three letters he’d sent. There had been quite a lot of cursing, and more fury was trapped within the pages of the current letter. At this point, he didn’t have the energy to care how far he’d gone over the line with his previous professor and employer.

He rolled his shoulders and dipped his quill in the ink once more. Reinvigorated, he finished the last paragraph arguing for moving Harry and signed the letter. Once it was sealed and addressed, he moved quickly to find an owl. He stopped dead when he saw Sirius in the hall.

“Sending a letter?” Sirius’ voice was calm and collected. His face was the image of barely controlled rage.

“Yes,” Remus said stiffly—too stiffly—and winced. “It’s for Dumbledore.”

“He’ll listen to you then.” Sirius’ voice had gone ice cold.

“He hasn’t, actually,” Remus admitted. He made it four steps when Sirius’ voice carried to him.

“What do you mean, he hasn’t?” “I didn’t want to tell you.” Remus rubbed his neck without turning around. That was the only reason Sirius had gotten close enough to lay a hand on his shoulder.

“Tell me.” The anger was gone.

“I’ve tried to get him to move Harry,” Remus managed.

“What?” Sirius turned Remus to face him, both hands squeezing his shoulders.

“To no avail,” Remus said sharply, “I didn’t want to give you false hope.”

“Hang that.” Sirius snapped, “I didn’t realize you were doing this for me.”

“For Harry too,” Remus said, then relented, “I can’t stand you feeling trapped still.”

“Do you have any idea how much that means to me, Remus?” Sirius had never looked so intently at him, not since before…

“I…I would have told you if it actually helped.” His voice was strained. He thought he might collapse on the floor if Sirius kept staring at him. Suddenly, Sirius wasn’t staring at him anymore.

It had been so long, so achingly long since Sirius had kissed him. This kiss was different, but not so different that Remus couldn’t recognize it. He could feel the desperation, his or Sirius’. Sirius’ grip filled so many cracks in his heart, the heat hadn’t dulled at all, his head was spinning just as it had years ago. There was such a relief from that, and Remus sank into the familiarity of it, the comfort of something remaining true no matter what. Finally, they broke apart. Dizzy, Remus tried to remember what he’d been doing before that.

“Thank you, Remus.” Sirius’ hands stroked Remus’ cheeks, one thumb softly tracing his bottom lip.

“Harry deserves to be with you,” Remus told him, “for you and for him.”

“Hearing that means the world to me.” Sirius’ voice was gruff. “I just need you to believe in me a bit.”

“I’ve always believed in you, Padfoot.” He had to bring Sirius close. His head was nuzzled into Sirius’ neck, just like before, and it felt so different. Then, he’d been close because he’d been so convinced that he’d never get that close to anyone ever again. Now, he was close for the comfort. It felt so much like burrowing somewhere safe. They stayed like that, quiet and drawing in each other’s presence.

“Pardon me.” A voice made them jolt apart. There was Dumbledore standing with a slight smile. Remus fought back the urge to shout at him. He was brilliant, powerful, and Remus had always believed he knew what was best. In this case, however, he wanted to punch him right in the crooked nose. He was very close to displaying all his black anger, but Sirius’ hand settled on his shoulder.

“To what do we owe the…lovely surprise?” Sirius had chosen his arrogant, aloof voice. Remus silently approved, and settled into the quiet, watchful role he’d always taken in this case.

“I have received both of your earnest letters.” Dumbledore interwove his fingers at chest level., “Please allow me to explain over a cup of tea.”

“That sounds reasonable,” Sirius mused, and then shouted for Kreacher. Remus thought that only four calls for the elf was a sign of progress. After a nasty interaction with Kreacher, the three men were sat in the kitchen with steaming cups of tea. Remus silently sipped as Sirius stirred absently.

“Well.” Dumbledore finished doctoring his tea. “First, I must assure you, I am doing what is best for Harry.”

“Are you?” Sirius’ voice was light, but Remus could hear the subtle bitterness. He managed to set his cup down gently rather than slamming it and called that act an incredible victory.

“Indeed.” Dumbledore sipped before continuing, “The night his parents died, Lily gave her life for his. That creates a powerful shield.” Remus lightly kicked Sirius’ ankle under the table as Sirius was about to retort.

“A blood-tied shield,” Remus clarified.

“Quite,” Dumbledore said. Remus took a deep breath and lace his fingers around the cup.

“Then.” Sirius carefully set his cup down in a gesture Remus knew was to regain control. “Harry had to go back to the Muggles.”

“In order to maintain Lily’s protection until he reaches adulthood, yes.” Dumbledore looked apologetic now. “I realized you were not aware of this, and that it would be better to tell you in person. However, I think it is perfectly reasonable for him to spend some time with his godfathers. I will be back this evening with Harry, who will be packing today.”

“You’re bringing him here?” Sirius settled back, content at last. Remus was very grateful Sirius hadn’t seemed to notice the use of “godfathers”, and that both of them were ignoring his sharp inhale and the nearly spilled tea from fumbling the cup.

“I am, after I pop by a friend. I think Harry should meet him.” Dumbledore took a long sip while Remus frowned and exchanged a glance with Sirius.

“Er—which friend?” Remus tried to look casual.

“Horace Slughorn,” Dumbledore said pleasantly. “I’d like to bring him back to school.”

“You’d like old Sluggy to teach again?” Sirius blatantly ignored the second kick to his ankle.

“Horace will be a good addition to the staff.” Dumbledore’s tone was mildly reproving though he did nothing more than lean back in his chair.

“And you’d like Harry to meet him?” Remus was still frowning.

“I would, yes.” Dumbledore nodded. “After all, Horace taught his parents.”

At that, Remus instantly relaxed. He should have remembered that. He looked to Sirius, who also seemed much more at ease. With that, the conversation turned more serious, to the workings of the Order and its members’ positions.

“It’s good to know that Harry’s been watched, as well,” Sirius said. “Thank you, Albus.”

“Of course.” Dumbledore’s smile was back again, “and that leads me to take my leave. It would be best to get some supper before I take Harry on our little trip.”

“I’m glad you visited.” Remus rose. Even he could appreciate the irony of never imagining he’d say so ever again.

“I am too, and I do apologize.” Sirius stood with his innate grace. Remus wondered fleetingly if Sirius was ever capable of being awkward at all before Sirius continued, “I was quite harsh in my letters.”

“Understandable.” Dumbledore inclined his head. “Especially given the circumstances. I can hardly blame you for wanting your loved ones close.”

“I’ll have a proper report for you tomorrow at the meeting.” Remus felt awkward himself, and cursed under his breath. “I also apologize. There was a fair amount of vitriol in my own words.”

“I think you were more impassioned.” Dumbledore looked amused. “Though I will say your letters were more impassioned than Sirius’.”

“Were they?” Sirius was near laughing, and Remus’ cheeks reddened.

“In any case,” he managed.

“I’ll see myself out.” Dumbledore chuckled as he walked down the hallway. There was a moment of silence as Sirius gathered cups and the kettle.

“So,” Sirius said as he turned back to Remus after clearing the table, “you were…impassioned.”

“A bit.” Remus cleared his throat and slid his hands into his pockets. He could feel the heat in his cheeks rising, could feel his stomach fluttering just like it used to late in the night when it was the two of them in a cramped London apartment, just the two of them in a creaky bed touching and—

“How impassioned?” Sirius was looking at him in a way no one had looked at him in years. As a matter of fact, no one had looked at him that way since Sirius last did, the night before James and Lily were murdered.

“I believe I said a bit,” Remus said stiffly, not sure where Sirius was going with the conversation but hoping to God it was to a bed somewhere. Surely that was far too much to expect in a day. It had been so very long…

“Will I see a bit of your… was it vitriol?” Sirius grinned as he held the letter Remus had dropped, “Shall I see?” Remus gaped as Sirius broke the seal and began to read. Good Lord…

“That’s not for you to read.” He made a grab for the letter. Sirius dodged, laughing.

“Three lines in and you’ve cursed!” The bark of laughter made Remus’ cheeks burn.

“Piss off, Pad, I was—”

“A bit impassioned, Moons?”

“Yes.” Remus was sure his face was the color of a ripe beet, and Sirius was holding the letter above his head like he was still in school, playing at stirring up his emotions like it was a delightful game. He was trying to convince himself he didn’t like it when Sirius finished laughing like a loon.

“Well, now, we can’t have a bit impassioned Moony.” His eyes were a bright silver for the first time since they’d met again two years ago, and he’d lowered the hand with the letter. Sirius snagged his tie and pulled him in for a fierce kiss, and Remus instantly melted. “We need a desperately impassioned Remus John Lupin.” Sirius’ voice was low and husky, and Remus’ legs went to jelly. His brain went to absolute smoke when Sirius moved his mouth to his throat, lightly nipping at his pulse and collarbone, sliding his tongue over heated flesh.

“S-Sirius,” he gasped as his knees buckled.

“Upstairs.” Sirius nipped his chin gently. “Upstairs now.” Then they were carefree teenagers again, stumbling up the steps and discarding clothing along the way. Remus couldn’t help but revel in the feeling of Sirius’ long fingers trailing about his skin, the heat from a mouth finding places to linger and make Remus groan. Remus remembered touching Sirius like this, years ago, when they were first discovering what felt good, what felt like heaven when they were alone in the dark. It didn’t register that they were in a bedroom until they fell onto a bed. About thirty seconds later Remus registered that they were both naked—and prolonging the inevitable. He took a precious few seconds to appreciate that what was once a lost, dead future was blooming again. It seemed impossible that amongst all the uncertainty, all the darkness, this light still managed to shine.

Those thoughts were set aside because there was a sudden onslaught by the taste of Sirius’ collarbone. His hands started sliding over skin while Sirius’ taste flooded his mind. It was so new it felt like the first time they’d been together. Of course, this time they were horizontal. Their real first time, they’d been vertical for 95% of it. How Sirius could have remembered just how to touch him was a wonder to Remus. Everything faded away but for the man currently on top of him. He could feel the soft waves through his fingers, the bunched muscles of Sirius’ back under his palm. Sirius’ mouth was toying with his shoulder, one hand on the back of his neck, the other just playing over his left hip. It was just as Remus had needed for years, just as unforgettable. Suddenly his mind was blank—Sirius had his hand—

_Good God— _

Remus blinked at the light coming through the window. Wrapped around his torso were strong arms and Sirius’ nose nestled against the back of his neck. He sighed with happiness as he remembered. Sirius’ head moved, mouth pressing a soft kiss to Remus’ cheek. He lifted his hand to join Sirius’ on his chest.

“‘Lo, love.” Sirius’ deep, sleepy voice jumped Remus’ heartbeat, like it always had.

“Hi,” Remus managed to breathe somewhat. He squeezed Sirius’ hand before rising from the bed. His head was spinning. He blinked at the room, still decorated exactly as Sirius had it when they were in school.

“S’wrong?” Sirius was sitting up, eyes narrowed.

“It’s not wrong.” Remus moistened his lips. “I just don’t know how this...will just…”

“It won’t just.” Sirius was smiling sadly. “If there’s anything I’ve learned, it’s that things we want, and the things we’re desperate to keep, become the biggest battles of our lives. I’ve had to fight for you, for Harry, for my own freedom. And we’ve both had to fight for our lives.”

“Yeah,” Remus said softly, “and what after we’re done fighting?”

“What do you mean?”

“After this war--”

“We fight for our life.” Sirius’ gray eyes were always fierce, but they were especially insistent now.

“We still fight?”

“Yeah, but for each other, and not just to survive. After that’s done, we fight to thrive.” Sirius rose, found his pants and put them on. Remus felt a bit vulnerable then, so he cast his gaze for his own trousers. He spotted the damn things at the doorway--_had he really gotten out of them there?_\--and had made it two steps before Sirius grabbed his arm.

“My trousers, Sirius,” Remus gentled his voice when he saw Sirius looking with naked fear, “I just want to put them on.”

“Right.” Sirius let go and relaxed.

“It’s odd,” Remus said, tugging on the brown corduroys, “I always thought I’d be dead long before now.”

“Remus,” Sirius paused, “I think that’s why we understand each other so well.”

“Yeah?”

“Both of us have been more intimate with Death than we ever have been with Life.” Sirius paused, and after a deep breath he continued, “Death is always with the both of us. It’s both friend and foe. And you’d understand that because like me, you’ve sometimes preferred Death to Life. At least Death is honest.”

“It’s true.” Remus smiled sadly. “Life is a nasty liar. I couldn’t tell you anything definitive about Life, but Death is nothing but a definition. It seems that what’s really unknowable is Life.”

“Exactly.” Sirius seemed to be wearing the same sad smile. “Funny that we understand that, but couldn’t understand anything else.”

“But if we didn’t understand that, we wouldn’t be who we are--or who we are together.”

Sirius stared at him for a moment, “You’re right.”

Remus smiled at him and couldn’t help but think this was just the beginning. Their journey ended nearly fifteen years before, but they were starting again. Beginnings were hopeful, even as they ended something. He thought of Tonks, and re-evaluated. She hadn’t been an end, but a beginning as well. It was the start of the real fight--the start of a new war. The start of wars were littered with martyrs, and they deserved respect. Tonks would appreciate being a symbol, an inspiration, Remus thought. From this came the chance for Harry to know Sirius, and by extent James. Plus him, Remus supposed.

He was still smiling as Harry launched himself at Sirius, as Sirius clung tight to his godson. How odd that Death be a birth. How odd that he hadn’t quite predicted it, though it was precisely Life’s style. After all, from Death came Life, who always flew back to Death eventually. Just as he had come back to Sirius, just as Harry had come back to Sirius, just as war came back to haunt all of them. They could fight, and they could win. After all, Hope came back just like everything else. This time, he’d welcome what returned and take it head on. He supposed that’s what his journey had been about all along--not running but chasing. It was about damn time his journey really started.

He was finally ready.


End file.
